The bar was drenched in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the distant clink of a bartender wiping down already-clean glasses. But Miles and Dion sat still—two brothers, once inseparable, now divided by years of shadows, loss, and bitter truths.
Dion finally broke the silence.
"That year… when I got back from that mission," he began, his voice dry, cracking at the edges, "they told me Flora was gone."
He didn't look at Miles—his eyes were fixed on the table, the wood stained dark like old blood.
"I was broken," Dion whispered. "And angry. So angry I couldn't think straight. They said her undercover op with Jehan got compromised… Graveyard claimed the mission failed and we lost Flora in the field. Just like that. No closure. No body. No answers."
Miles's jaw tightened, but he remained silent, listening.
"I wanted Jehan's head," Dion continued. "You remember how furious I was. We both were."
